Humor from "Tactical Tom"

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TACTICAL TOM
As I was leaving my house I stuffed my Glock 10mm "man gun"
Mexican-style ...

Humor from "Tactical Tom"

Sadly this reminds me of some one I know

TACTICAL TOM

As I was leaving my house I stuffed my Glock 10mm "man gun"
Mexican-style in my pants. My backup is a fully customized 1911 with
all
the IPSC add-on options in my $500.00 leather pancake holster custom
made by Belgian Monks who have devoted their lives to silence and
holster making. These are the ones used by SEAL Team 6, which I used to
be a part of but all records of my activities were destroyed in a fire
"accident".

I put on my Royal Robbins photographer vest to match my pants while
wearing a T-Shirt underneath reading "from my cold dead hands." That
way, nobody can see what I'm packing. I had my Centennial .38 Special
in
my ankle holster, just like the gun rag guys carry. Lastly I had my
"Covert Sniper" I.D. Card in my wallet with my "Concealed Weapons
Permit
Badge". I was ready for anything.

I drove my "bug-out truck" to the 7-11 for some beer, 'cause you never
know. It is a performance-styled Subaru BRAT with 4 cylinders of
ground
pounding fury.

I pull up to the 7-11 store and notice a suspicious looking girl scout
eyeballing me from the back of her mother's SUV. A likely cover.

The mother returned to the truck and went for the keys in her purse,
but
I knew from my years of combat-honed instincts that she was actually
making a furtive movement for an offensive weapon.

I attempted a tactical shoulder roll, but fell flat on my face, kind of
flopping on the pavement to avoid any incoming rounds and to make it
look like I meant to do that. The store owner called 911 which is good,
because I then did a roll and attempted to draw my Glock.

Unfortunately, since I did not have a holster, the gun "went off" and
the bullet creased my kneecaps. But I was prepared for that and bit
down
on a 9mm casing to take my mind off the pain as I dove for the garbage
barrel. That's when I noticed the girl scout shouting something to her
mother who began to take cover. I knew they were closing on me so I
drew my trusty custom 1911 Wilson COMBAT....I knew! that they would be
impressed with that. I then duck walked to the front of her SUV but my
gut kinda got in the way and I fell on my [beeep], which caused me to
swallow my 9mm casing.

I then tried to roll to my right, but didn't want to scuff my holster,
so I just threw myself into a telephone pole, but I landed on my right
side anyway. So I fired one shot towards the woman's SUV to pin them
down as I recovered my wind.

Before the mother knew what was happening, I charged her and I threw my
groin into her knee. I knew that as I vomited on the ground in front of
her that I had interrupted her OODA loop, and I had the advantage now.
As she ran screaming for the girl scout (I knew she was going for
backup) I made for my super-charged BRAT tactical truck! I jumped into
the driver seat, forgetting that I had left my rare Israeli contract AR
15 Bayonet on the seat (honed to a razors edge). I could handle it
though, half my butt is an implant from war wounds. As I attempted to
start my truck, police and paramedics arrived on the scene. My truck
would not start and instead backfired once and caused the police to
taze
me. At this point, I tactically soiled myself while in convulsions. My
custom 1911 then fell out the window, but I still had my Centennial
.38.
I knew then that I had to take out the woman with the purse.

So I aimed my revolver at her, at which point the first police officer
fired once striking me in the chest. Fortunately, I was wearing my
level
3A body armor. I didn't want to hurt the cops, they had obviously been
duped by the evil temptress who was now embracing her partner in crime
and crying to the police in the background - I knew it was a ruse.

I pulled out my concealed weapons permit badge and showed it to the
officer who shot me and yelled out "I'm one of you guys!!!" He
continued
to cover me, and ordered me to drop my .38 so I laid it down. After
all,
I still had my bayonet attached to my butt. The cop walked toward me,
and upon reading the badge maced me right in the eyes. Fortunately, my
Oakley shooting glasses stopped most of the spray and I was able to rip
free of the Taser cords easily. It only cost me one nipple...easily
replaced. I dove for the passenger side of my truck and began to run
zig
zag for a ditch. Unfortunately, the bayonet sticking out of my butt
slowed me down. I knew it would have to be hand-to-hand now. I knew the
cop couldn't take me when I saw he merely carried a Glock 17, not a
man's gun. So I immediately threw my eye into his right hook, followed
by a knee into his mag light. As I lay thrashing! on the ground, I
took the heel of my Bates enforcer boot and kicked at the cops ankle. I
knew from my classified experiences in Tajikistan that once I broke his
ankle, the cop would fall down and I could "stun kick" him in the head,
knocking him out but not hurting him.

Apparently the cop had also been to Tajikistan, because he side stepped
me and struck me in the back with his ASP baton, but my trauma plate
absorbed it. I then drew my Benchmade auto knife and was promptly tased
again, but I was ready for it this time and only wet myself a little
bit.